


The Bold & the Restless

by shetlandowl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, Tony & Steve are feudal lords in Northern England, and they self-medicate boredom by pulling each other's pigtails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:39:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetlandowl/pseuds/shetlandowl
Summary: In feudal England, the wealthy lords & assorted gentry occasionally entertained themselves by pranking their neighbors. Lord Steve was no different, if not wilier than most.





	The Bold & the Restless

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betad, and all mistakes are mine.

“Jarvis!” Tony roared as he charged in through the foyer, throwing his overcoat at the first servant in reach and taking the stairs to his study two at a time in his haste. 

His butler already awaited him there, in the small study overcrowded with books and leather armchairs supporting various positions for rumination in front of the generous south-facing picture windows that overlooked Tony’s favorite aspect of the estate. Clearly, Tony’s outrage was as much a surprise to the long-suffering butler as his sanctuary of choice. 

“What troubles you, your Grace?” Jarvis encouraged him gently, presenting the silver tray on which a single glass of scotch already awaited the enraged Duke. It was snatched off the plate at once, and half of its content emptied in less time still. “Ill news from the west, sire?”

“My white carriage horses, Jarvis,” Tony grit out through his teeth, tumbler pinched in his hand as he briskly paced the length of the picture window in a fit of pique. “They’re green, all of them. He’s turned my _white carriage horses green._ ”

“That is troubling, sire, with the imminent midsummer ball,” Jarvis politely observed. 

“This is the 14th century, Jarvis: it’s not troubling, it is vexing -- _he_ is vexing,” Tony insisted with fierce conviction, and as if to drive the statement home he downed the last of his scotch in one breath. “Just,” he started to say before he caught himself, and then with a groan finally admitted, “ _how_ does he do it?”

“His Majesty’s soldiers are resourceful by nature and by necessity, sire,” Jarvis said with his typical objective insight, speaking with the confidence of a man who already knew the way to water and was offering Tony enough clues to find the trough for himself. “However, if memory serves, they are by necessity also inclined to travel light. Perhaps an inspection of materials absent from the stables and the surrounding gardens can shed some light on your query.”

“Yes, yes, inventory of the stables are underway - nothing is missing as of yet,” Tony dismissed impatiently without turning his unseeing eyes away from the sprawling fields and woodlands below. Absently, if not instinctively, he reached back in Jarvis’s general direction with his empty glass, where it was received and a second tumbler was pressed into his hand with practiced grace. “How does he do it,” he muttered to himself after another fortifying drink. 

“Is the dye similar to what we observed on the blue sheep a fortnight ago, sire?” Jarvis inquired; Tony only grunted in answer, a note of affirmation. “And the profane yellow parrot of last month?”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned at the memory. “The profane yellow parrot was never dyed, only profane,” Tony reminded him in a tired voice, as if the memory had taken him back to the weeks of sleepless nights interrupted by vulgar heckling from the frightfully well-concealed bird. 

Jarvis cleared his throat delicately, then quietly said, “Might I suggest the open rose carriage and the two chestnut horses for the midsummer ball, your Grace? I recall Miss Potts particularly favors the chestnut pair.” 

“Right you are, Jarvis, right you are,” Tony murmured in agreement with the distracted air of a man who was no longer attuned to the conversation, and he promptly dropped his empty tumbler on a nearby side table as he darted with a sudden and inexplicable energy to one of the many bookshelves housed in the small study. One by one he pulled books off their shelves to scrutinize and subsequently scowl at before discarding them with little care (and with rising frustration) over his shoulder. Jarvis deftly caught twelve such offending volumes before finally the Duke appeared to have found the information he sought. 

“Inspired to conspire retaliation already, sire?” Jarvis asked as Tony dashed from his books to his desk and from his desk to his books in a gleeful frenzy, muttering about _concentration_ and _dispersion_ to himself as he went, until finally he made a beeline for the exit with a bundle of books under his arm and a spring in his step. 

“Shall I have tea sent to the workshop again, sire?” Jarvis inquired of Tony’s back rhetorically. “Certainly, your Grace, as you wish.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you ever feel like a Stony chat, [I'm on Tumblr (as shetlandowl)](http://shetlandowl.tumblr.com/) more often than I should be.
> 
> Notes:  
> 
> 
>   1. The premise is this: Medieval England apparently wasn't all that exciting for the noble folk, which, I guess there's only so much one can do. Basically, one lord would kidnap another and demonstrate how wealthy, powerful, and superior he and his lands are to his neighbor by feeding him great food, taking him out hunting, and in every way bragging about everything under the sun. A week later, his victim would be released, then soon repay the favor by kidnapping his neighbor to _his_ castle for show  & tell. I've sort of elaborated on this idea for this short story. 
>   2. This whole story is based on stories & history that I learned on a tour of Alnwick Castle in Northumberland, England. I have not fact checked; if you know I am wrong, please correct me (as with all things), but personally I like to believe they wouldn't tell such a blatant lie - and also because I find this premise HILARIOUS. 
>   3. The pranks listed are entirely possible and, in fact, recorded in medieval English history. Many, many thanks to Sabre who had as much a hand in digging up the ridiculous pranks of the medieval upper class as I. 
>   4. This is the first thing I ever wrote in the Stony fandom. It was meant to be longer, but the gas sort of ran out in me so I'm posting it as is. 
>   5. If you're curious, I'm picturing Tony to live in [Alnwick Castle](http://www.britainexpress.com/images/attractions/editor3/Alnwick-Castle-6711.jpg), while Steve is in [Warkworth Castle](https://orig00.deviantart.net/65f4/f/2017/154/d/4/dji_0087small_by_newcastlemale-dbbesnw.jpg). Historically, these were both owned by the Duke of Northumberland. Today, the Percys still live in Alnwick Castle occasionally. 
> 



End file.
